Chapter 5 – The Oath of Exile
The ruins lay silent under the pale light of a waning moon, shadows stretching like claws across the cracked stone. Serenya stood among them, the raw pulse of power still thrumming in her veins. Her body ached from exertion, but her spirit had never felt sharper.
The cloaked man approached, moving like a whisper across the stone floor. He knelt before her, lifting his hood to reveal a face both aged and hardened by secrets. His eyes, sharp and piercing, seemed to see through the very layers of her soul.
"You survived," he said, voice low and solemn. "The forest has recognized your bloodline. Few have awakened what you have, and none have done so without consequence."
Serenya straightened, chains still heavy on her wrists, though now they felt like nothing compared to the fire burning inside her. "What is this place?" she asked. "What is this power I've awakened? And why was I cast into exile?"
The man's gaze never wavered. "You are of the exiled bloodline—the lineage the kings sought to erase. Your exile was not merely punishment. It was precaution. They feared what you could become, even before you knew it yourself."
Serenya's fists clenched. "Then it is not mercy that sent me here. It is fear. Fear of me."
"Yes," he admitted. "Fear and ignorance. But you… you are more than even the forest knows. There is an order, sworn to the blood of queens like you. They have watched, waited, and now… they will guide you. If you choose to rise."
Her mind raced, images of betrayal flashing behind her eyes—the King's smirk, the guards' obedience, the whispers of nobles in the court. Rage coiled like a serpent within her. "Then I will rise," she said, her voice steady, though filled with fire. "I will not remain broken. I will return. I will take back what is mine."
The cloaked man nodded, almost reverently. "That is the oath of exile. To rise, despite the world turning against you. To claim what was stolen. To become what the kings feared. Say it aloud, Queen Serenya. Let the forest, let the ruins, let all who would oppose you hear it."
Serenya drew a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs. "I swear it. I swear to rise. I swear to reclaim my throne, to avenge my betrayal, and to command the power that is mine by right of blood. Let the world remember this day: the exile queen has returned."
A wind swept through the ruins, rattling the stones, carrying a whisper that seemed almost like approval. The forest itself shivered, shadows writhing in acknowledgment. The Queen's power pulsed stronger, no longer a mere flicker—it had begun to burn like a wildfire restrained only by her will.
The cloaked man stepped back. "You will not be alone. There are those who will follow, those who will guide, and those who will test you. But you must learn to trust yourself above all. For enemies are already moving, and the empire has many who would see you dead before you ever reach the throne."
Serenya looked to the dark horizon, where the cursed forest merged with jagged mountains. "Let them come," she whispered. "Let all who betrayed me tremble. I am no longer the queen they cast aside. I am the Exile Queen. And they will remember my name."
The ruins fell silent again, but the energy in the air hummed like a promise. Beyond the trees, unknown dangers lurked, waiting for the queen to test her limits. Yet she welcomed them. Each shadow, each whisper, each threat was a step on the path to vengeance—and power.
The oath had been spoken. The exile had begun. And Queen Serenya's journey to reclaim her throne—and to shake the foundations of an empire built on betrayal—was only beginning.